Into the Light
Story by Emma McCoy | 5 minute read
This week I went on a walk with one of my friends. He and I both enjoy hiking, and he showed me one of his favorite hikes. As we walked along the shoreline and up and down hills, our conversation ranged from school to TV to books.
At some point, when we were talking about family, our conversation turned to addictive behaviors. His mother is an alcoholic in recovery, and my father describes himself as having workaholic tendencies. We had lots to say about the nature of addictive behaviors, and how they impact someone’s life. The conversation turned toward eating disorders in particular.
Nine percent of the US population will have an eating disorder in their lifetime, and the majority of those who suffer are women, often diagnosed between the ages of 15-25. Similar to alcohol and drug addiction, there is a genetic component as well as a social component. Although eating disorders can come in many forms, like any other addictive behavior, it thrives in secret.
During the summer of 2020, I developed an eating disorder. Thankfully, I was never hospitalized, needed outpatient, or was in danger of losing my life. Eating disorders come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and I am fortunate that my life was never at risk.
However, it’s taken me nearly three years to name it honestly. I used language like “disordered eating tendencies” to try and soften what it is: a destructive pattern of behavior that took over every aspect of my life. It damaged my health. It damaged my relationships. It isolated me from my community because I wanted to keep it a secret. In the words of Spring Church member Leroy Gunderson, “isolation is the start of everything bad.”
Addictive behaviors don’t want to stop; it’s familiar, grounding, and comforting. Not eating gave me a false feeling of control in a time when everything seemed to spiral out of control. My friend and I talked about how powerful that feeling is, and how change for an eating disorder, or other addiction, often comes from a loved one saying something.
My father is fond of saying that “sunlight is the best disinfectant.” It’s got Biblical grounding, too: Luke 8:17 says, “For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all” (NLT). When our friends, family, and community come to us and say that something isn’t right, it brings the shameful, dark secrets out into the light where they lose hold over us.
Our coping habits tell us, “this isn’t hurting anyone else.” That’s a lie. Hurting ourselves hurts those we love, and keeping our pain to ourselves allows it to spill out in all kinds of unforeseen ways.
This is what happened with my eating disorder. I hid it, but I was irritable, isolating, tired, hurtful, and angry. I was so deep in the lie of control that I would not have been able to seek help if it weren’t for the people around me telling me that I needed it. Whether they were aware of my eating disorder or not, people in my life supported me in my healing.
Bringing our secrets, addictive behaviors, and shame out into the light isn’t easy. In fact, it’s quite painful. But Jesus shows us time and time again that we are not meant to be alone. And that means we aren't meant to do it alone either.
Many people carried me to Jesus for healing. My parents helped me get into counseling, my friends kept coming around and talking to me, and professionals helped me figure out how to eat again. A coach looked me in the eye and told me the truth: “it will take you eight weeks to recover from this sprained knee, that shouldn’t have happened, because you aren’t feeding yourself.” I couldn’t have possibly come to this truth, and this healing, by myself.
In the story of Jesus healing the paralyzed man, the text says that Jesus looks at both the man and his friends. It’s not only the man up there in front of everyone and Jesus, his friends are there, too. They carried him, they lowered him through the roof, and they were there when he received healing.
Coming out into the light and receiving healing can be physical healing. It can be emotional healing. It can be healing from grief, from loss, from anger, from resentment, from chronic illness or injury. It can also be healing from what is kept in the dark, what is kept secret, and what is thought to be shameful.
Healing happens with others.
Jesus heals us, yes, and the power of his love and mercy can’t be understated. But as we look at our story, we also can’t ignore that the paralytic man was with his friends, and the healing he received was possible with and through them.
My friend’s mother has her own addictive behaviors and is able to be in recovery every day through honesty and transparency with her family. My father is receptive when I tell him he’s working too much. And when I start skipping meals again, I’ve invited my community to tell me, to tell me the truth that my addictive behaviors don’t want me to know.
By leaning into the trusted people around us, we can be brought to Jesus on strength that isn’t possible on our own. When it’s too easy to lie to ourselves, the people in our community can say wait, something isn’t right.
Hey, it was the love of other people that allowed me to find my way back home.
This eating disorder will be a part of me for the rest of my life. I’ll always be grateful that my life was never in danger, nor was I hospitalized. But the urge to eat less than I should, or not at all, will never really go away. There will be better seasons, and worse ones, but telling the truth to my community about my darkness means that they can bring me to Jesus’ healing, over and over again, on strength not my own.
Jesus saw the faith of the paralyzed man’s friends and was impressed. Faith is stronger together. Healing happens with others. Bringing the dark into the light isn’t something we are strong enough to do on our own. That strength comes from Jesus’ transformational love and the relationships around us.
As we go into our Common Table Gathering this Sunday, think about the people around you. How can you pray for healing, for truth, and for the Holy Spirit to reveal where you’re needed? And even further: what darkness are you avoiding, and how can you pray for those hard things to be brought to light?
Jesus’ transformational love happens with other people, and that community brings the hard, dark parts of our lives out into the light, where healing can happen. The paralyzed man’s friends brought him to Jesus, and as a church we can lean into each other and the brilliant difficulty there to participate in what the Holy Spirit is inviting us to join.
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